


Take My Fear

by Cumberbatch Critter (ivelostmyspectacles)



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety, Caretaking, M/M, Panic Attacks, Thunderstorms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 22:11:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9789290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/Cumberbatch%20Critter
Summary: and hold me in your armsAlex hates that he's afraid of thunderstorms.





	

**Author's Note:**

> hello another trope that I write for literally everyone have this hamilton fandom, it's only been sitting in my docs for weeks Dx
> 
> I do not own _Hamilton_. Thanks for reading!

Educational Equality was going in one ear and right out the other. Which sort of sucked, because he’d been looking forward to this one, and not only just because John was in this lecture with him. Make no mistake that it was _at least_ a third of the reason why he’d been excited for it, but it had started out as a good lecture. It would have been a good supplementary lesson.

But he couldn’t _listen_ – not past hearing the rain pouring down outside of the hall, not past the pulse rushing in his veins. This wasn’t supposed to start until _later_. The rain, the _thunderstorms_. His mouth had gone dry just thinking about it. He had to pull himself out of the position he’d frozen in to grab his coffee and gulp at it.

He was doing his best to distract himself. Twenty year olds just didn’t have panic attacks over thunderstorms. It wasn’t even storming yet. He looked away from the professor and cast his gaze to John.

He was fully immersed in the lecture, unlike Alex. Fingers tapping quickly away at his laptop, notepad resting open on the armrest, a pen shoved into the hair behind his ear. This was John’s element. Alex was much more at home in places like Constitutional Law, or even the moot court (especially the moot court), but it was good to learn as much as he could and John had been only a _tiny_ bit of the reason he’d signed up for some of the things he’d signed up for. He could handle the extra workload, if it meant getting more time with John.

He’d _meant_ to be here earlier, to grab a seat next to John, but he’d gotten so busy working on his essay that he’d had to run from the pastry shop just to get into the hall for the start of the thing. He should have noticed the sky, then. It had probably been clouding down already. He didn’t know. He hadn’t noticed. He tended to block things out when he was busy.

God, he was gorgeous, John. It was stupid, how in love with him Alex was. He’d had a few relationships, on and off and on again, but they never stuck. He’d admit it to himself that he wasn’t very attentive. It wasn’t for lack of trying, it was just… he got distracted. He was good at that, too. But John… John was endlessly patient. Maybe even more than Alex deserved sometimes.

How lucky was he, to be–

Thunder rumbled; Alex almost pitched out of his chair. It drew attention from the people sitting immediately next to him and he gave them a toothy smile, trying to clamp down on the panic rolling down his spine. Oh God. Okay. It couldn’t last long. Thunderstorms rarely lasted long. Just breathe, Alex.

It might have worked, for a few minutes. The next thing he knew, there was another crash-bang that made everyone in the lecture hall flinch, and the nervous laughter that followed hid Alexander’s half-strangled chuckle.

He glanced towards John, found him looking back at him. He had a look on his face, one that Alex didn’t have the mental acuity to try and decipher just now. He just tried to smile at him, but John’s hands had stilled against the keyboard, and he was still looking at him when Alex turned away.

Another roll of thunder, a flash of light outside the window. Alex abandoned his notebook and let his fingers seize around his coffee cup again. He’d long since stopped listening to the lecture, and now he was only staring at the lid of his coffee, desperately wanting to curl up and put his face in his knees and for fuck’s sake, he was in college and he was in lecture and he couldn’t _do_ that.

Was it cold in here? Was it cold in here, or was it just him? Or wasn’t it cold at all? He was _sweating_ , damp prickling in the small of his back and under his arms. Another flash, and his breath caught in his throat. He closed his eyes, breathed in shakily through his nose for four seconds, held it for seven, and breathed out with a rush that was meant to last for eight but probably didn’t.

Breathe, Alex. It wasn’t that hard. Inhale through the nose, exhale through the mouth. _You’re good at using your mouth, use it for, I don’t know,_ **_breathing_**. _It’s really not that hard. How are you supposed to be a lawyer if you can’t even handle a little_ **_thunderstorm_**?

His chest hurt. _It’s just a thunderstorm._ He tried to pull his shirt away from his throat, but it was a v-neck tee. _It’s just a thunderstorm_. His hands were shaking around the cup of coffee. _It’s just a…_ What was the thing? The breathing thing? 4-7-8? Or 4-7-10? Or was it 5, and not 4? _It’s just…_

“Alex.”

It felt like a knife was being dragged up the back of his spine. He sat up straight, head jerking up, suddenly aware of the fact that he was curled over the cup he was still holding. John was knelt in front of him, holding his hands up slightly.

“Hey.” John took the notebook from Alex’s lap to shove it into his bag. “Let’s go.”

“Wha–?”

“Come on.”

“I can–”

“For once in your life, don’t argue,” John interrupted. “Come on.”

Alex was at a complete loss for words. He hated that feeling, not being able to get words onto his tongue, not being able to articulate. It didn’t happen often, which probably explained a little about why he _hated_ it so much when it did.

He also couldn’t _move_ . He was supposed to move, supposed to follow John. He… could barely even remember how to breathe, let alone remember how to get to his feet. _Fuck._ Useless, so _useless_ , move your ass, Alex–

And then John, who’d already stepped away, was back, back in his personal space and very gently laying a hand on Alex’s arm. “Alexander. Come on.”

Then Alex was being practically pulled to his feet, John’s hand gentle but insistent beneath his arm, all the way out to the corridor. Alex went in a stupor, gasping for breath, and flinching into John at another crack at thunder.

“Alex, breathe– you didn’t tell me you were afraid of thunderstorms. Unless this is just some random panic attack… Um, just try to breathe, okay. You’re okay.” He plucked the coffee cup from Alex’s hands. “Maybe lay off that, too, it’s probably not helping.” He turned to, presumably, look for somewhere to throw it away, but all that Alex recognized was that John was _leaving_ ; his hands flung out to catch at John’s shirt, his jacket, anything–

“Hey, hey, hey. Alex. It’s okay, I’m not leaving.” Hands stroked at his hair, smoothing flyaways behind an ear. Then a faint press of lips to his forehead, barely there and then gone.

“… Yeah?” Alex croaked. Maybe if he forced himself to speak, it would distract him, and maybe if he was distracted, he could get his breath back. He just wanted to go _home_ , why hadn’t he left before this, why had he kept drinking that coffee, why hadn’t he skipped lecture knowing it was going to storm… it was just, he didn’t want to miss getting new information… he didn’t want to miss spending time with John…

“I’m not leaving,” John repeated. There was uneasiness on his face that spoke volumes against the confident tone of his voice. “I just need to move some things… I’ve got your bag here, too… and we can get you back to the dorms. Alright?”

Speaking was hard. Walking back to his dorm felt monumental. He’d make an effort. “Yeah–” Or he might have, if the power hadn’t suddenly surged, if he hadn’t been engulfed in blackness for a half second. A half second too long, and he somehow ended up on the floor in a heap, no recollection of feeling his legs crumple or the strangled sob jerking out of his throat.

“Alex– shit, hey, hey hey hey hey.” John seemed to go down with him. Alex wasn’t sure if he’d dragged him down or not, but his arms were still around him and Alex found himself turning his face into John’s jacket. “ _Alex_ , breathe, come on.”

He wasn’t aware that he wasn’t until he realized the rasping noise was his _breathing_. Or… hyperventilating. Oh. Good job, Alex.

“Come on.” John was dragging his fingers through Alex’s hair, letting it fall down around his shoulders. “Alex, sweetheart, please, you’re okay.” He held Alex’s head close to his chest, blocking his view of any potential flashes of lightning or electricity both. “I’m here… I’m not really, uh, sure what to do, but… I am here, I’m not going anywhere. Alex.”

As far as trying to calm him down from a panic attack, it was a horrible attempt… or maybe it was a decent one. Alex didn’t know. When he had panic attacks on his own, he usually just cried until he threw up and then hated himself afterwards. So, maybe it was a bad attempt, and maybe it was a good one, but it was _John_ , and Alex could only just hear his heartbeat from where his head was pressed against his chest, over his own ragged breathing as he tried to get himself under control. And since it was John… maybe that was all he needed, after all.

So he tried to focus on that heartbeat, and the voice, and the feel of John’s chest rising and falling, and his hands in his hair and around his shoulders. John coaxed him through breathing, gave him a steady stream of praise at even the smallest things, and Alex tried not to think about how he was having a panic attack in the hallway outside his lecture hall.

The crippling exhaustion that came with it made him want to lay down with his head in John’s lap to sleep, and he suspected that he wouldn’t be allowed that. He didn’t _really_ want to sleep here, just… he was exhausted, and John was _warm_.

“Well, clearly, you’re not… okay,” John said, after what seemed like ages of silence. “But are you, um, better? You sound better.”

“I feel worse,” he rasped. It wasn’t a lie. His head was still pounding, and his throat aching. But he wasn’t completely seized up by terror, so that was improvement.

“Oh.” John’s hand stilled on his shoulder. “What can I… is there something I can do?”

“No, you’ve…” Alex made an effort to sit up straighter. His entire body was aching, actually. “You’ve helped a lot, John… I’m just tired.”

“It sounds like the storm’s moved on, I can check if it’s still raining, but you want to get back to the dorms?”

“Yes.” He rubbed his eyes, glancing towards the windows. He couldn’t pretend that he didn’t hate how he hesitated before he could even look. Fucking college student afraid of thunder.

“Can I– yeah, ow.”

“Did I put your leg to sleep?” he mumbled, pausing in scrubbing his hands down his face.

John flashed him a smile. “A little. Stay there a sec. Okay?”

Alex nodded. “Yeah, I’m not going anywhere.”

There was another press of lips against the top of his head, and Alex smiled even as John stepped away. He must really be a mess. John wasn’t usually so open on public displays of affection.

The rain had stopped, enough to walk back to their dorm. Alex somehow managed it without collapsing to the cement. He attributed it to John’s arm around his waist, and being able to rest his head on his shoulder. He really must look like shit… God he had to stop thinking that way, it just made the anxiety worse.

He didn’t know why he preferred John’s dorm to his. Maybe it was the absence of an irritating roommate - John had ended up with a single when his roommate had stopped coming to campus. It made it nice for them, they could tuck themselves into his room and not have to worry about anyone bothering them.

“You want a shower, or something?”

Alex was going straight for the bed, peeling his shirt off as he went. “No.” John was still lingering in the doorway, looking concerned, almost uneasy. Alex forced a slightly more believable smile. “I’d probably collapse if I tried now. Just tired, love. Promise.” He balled his shirt up and tossed it towards the laundry basket. He only resisted from falling face-first into bed with the promise of curling up on his side. He could still watch John that way, make sure he was okay after witnessing… that display.

John looked back at him for a moment and then started to shrug off his jacket. “So… if you don’t want to talk about it, it’s fine–”

“It’s just thunderstorms,” Alex interrupted. He wasn’t prone to not wanting to talk about something. “I’m… ha. Afraid of thunderstorms.” He couldn’t keep the derision out of his voice. “Like that’s a normal thing for twenty year olds to be afraid of.”

John sank onto the bed next to him, propping his hands behind him. “Dunno. Laf’s afraid of alligators.”

“What? Why?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess he had a run-in with one, once.”

One step closer towards a proper smile. “Yeah, but no one actually _wants_ to be, like, mauled by an alligator or something. That’s a normal thing to be afraid of.”

“Is it? You already know I’m claustrophobic.” John reached for Alex’s hand. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know, I just think it’s stupid.” Alex tangled their fingers together, closing his eyes. “Thanks for… all of that, though. Back there.”

“You don’t have to thank me.” Fingers brushed his hair over his shoulder again.

Alex wanted to press into it. He did. “You take such good care of me, John.”

Now John actually laughed, and the hand combing through his hair now pushed at his shoulder. Alex moved over accordingly. “God knows _someone_ has to,” John continued, and settled down next to him.

It was true, more true than Alex would admit. He _could_ take care of himself, he just… happened not to, sometimes. He’d much rather let John do it, he thought, curling into his warmth and weight. He was still hot and sweaty, and his pulse was still pounding a little too fast in his ears, but John was his saving grace. His comfort blanket, his protection, his home. He’d told John that once. John had gone pink beneath the freckles and Alex had threatened to shout it from the steps in the courtyard before kissing him into oblivion. He still believed it.

Maybe he could take care of himself. Maybe he couldn’t. Thankfully, he had John, there to pick up all of his pieces and hold him together, arm slung around his torso and Alex pulled against his chest. God, it was good. It was so, so good after such a horrible day.

“… Since when am I the little spoon, anyway?” Alex mumbled, voice muffled by John’s shirt. “That’s your–”

“ _Stop_. Talking,” John interrupted.

There was humour in his voice, and Alex hummed in amusement. He burrowed himself in closer to John and let him chase away the remnants of the fear.


End file.
